Mothballed
by Foolish-comic-dude
Summary: Forces retreating from Coruscant after the Yuuzhan Vong invasion have to defend their ragtag fleet and find some way to hit back
1. Chapter 1

Mothballed 

Brian Kelly.

He was on his home planet of Carida, which was impossible. Carida had been destroyed years ago, but non-the less that's where he was. He looked to the left and saw the imperial academy. That to was odd, because the flags flying atop academy were not imperial; they were the flags of the Old Republic. Fighters began to poor from the sky, and were met by the defense force from the academy. A klaxon began to blare and the academy took a direct hit, the stone and transprasteel melting away. Then the klaxon got loader and more insistent.

Commander Keith Farman was awoken by the klaxon from his dream, and looked around in confusion. He closed his eyes for ten seconds then reopened them and evaluated the situation. He was in his quarters aboard The _Reckless_, an old Rendili Stardrive's _Dreadnought-_class heavy cruiser, and the alarm blaring was the call to battle stations. Farman leapt from his bed, a move that was getting harder to do at sixty, and crossed to his closet. Pulling out his uniform and comlink, he started getting dressed and commed the bridge.

"Bridge this is Commander Farman, what in the name off sanity is going on?"

Captain Delcove, his second in command, answered, "We're under attack sir, Yuuzhan Vong capital ships have entered the system. They are underway towards us."

Farman nearly dropped his shirt, "Say again bridge I thought you said we were under attack by Vong."

Captain Delcove's voice was as hopeless and resigned as his own. "That is what I said."

Farman pulled his shirt over his head. "I need numbers, what have they got."

"We count twelve total capitol ships sir."

"ETA?"

"About three hours sir."

Farman tried to size up the situation. The _Reckless_ had been part of Garm Bel Iblis's Second Fleet. After the Fall of Coruscant the Reckless had jumped to the Peltoom asteroids, a group of asteroids that had severed as a Rebel Alliance repair depot before increased imperial activity had forced them out. Farman had used the _Reckless_ and the six other ships that had jumped with it as a rally point for all ships fleeing Coruscant. They had still been filling that role when we went to sleep six hours ago.

"Captain," He asked, "What is our fleet situation?"

Delcove took a few seconds to reply. "We have had new ships straggling for the last four hours or so. The grand total is sixty ships, mostly corvette class or smaller, a few frigates and gunships, and a MC80 Mon Cal Cruiser, most ships have been damaged to one degree or another. I would put our current defensive ability at about half of the Vong's firepower."

"So pretty much you're saying that we're fraged?" Farman asked.

"I'm saying that we have no hope of fighting this out and winning. Our fighter contingent is about down to half and moral is even lower."

"Alright, give the order to jump to light speed in two standard hours we will rendezvous about six parsecs from here. Make sure everyone gets the jump order. And make sure we all end up in the same place right now the only defense we've got is to appear as though we can put up a fight, which means staying together. All ships are ordered to spend the next hour and a half salvaging anything and every thing from the repair facilities. Also, I want as many star fighter training probes as possible."

Delcove's voice was uncertain. "Isn't that cutting it close, sir?"

"Yes but my orders stand, though I may revise them when I reach the bridge."

"Very good sir, see you soon."

Farman deactivated his comlink, and finished getting dressed. Yes, this was going to be close. He considered his orders again. His own crew had been salvaging all the parts they could from the old base ever since they got there. But there was so much left behind when the alliance left that he was sure that they hadn't recovered all of it yet. Hopefully they had gotten enough. After that they needed somewhere to hide out from the Vong. As he left his room, he slipped his jacket on. To his surprise something weighed down the pocket.

Reaching into his pocket he found the data pad he had been reading when he had gone to sleep. It was the ships log of his old ship, the _Venator-class_ Star Destroyer, _Misdirection_. He had been part of her crew during the clone wars, and the log had been a gift from an old friend who had also severed aboard her. He took a piece of flimsiplast from his pocket as well. It was a note that had been attached to the log, and contained only the words. "I found her," and a set of coordinates. On a whim he pulled up the Galaxy map on his data pad and entered the numbers. His heart soared, they were close by.

Farman shook his head, now was not the time to go on a hunt for his old ship. Or was it. Could she still work after all these years? She just might.

While he had been thinking about this, his feet had brought him to the bridge. The doors slid open, and he stepped into controlled chaos. An officer to his left shouted. "Commander on deck!" and every thing stopped as everyone saluted. A man with neatly trimmed dark hair and goatee stepped into his line of sight. He saluted and offered his hand. "Commander."

Farman took it and shook warmly. "Captain, fill me in."

Delcove led him over to a holographic tactical display and indicated a group of lights in the far left hand corner. "These are the Vong sir, they had been steadily inbound for the last fifteen minutes." The image showed twelve ships, more like flying rocks then any ship that had been tooled, but then again they had been grown, not built. The battle computer had them classified as three destroyer analogs, roughly as powerful as an _Imperial_-class Star destroyer. They were being escorted by six corvette analogs, and three carriers, bristling with coral skipper fighters.

He then turned his attention to his own fleet. "What do we have that is battle worthy?"

Delcove shook his head, then indicated a small group of ships clustered around the _Reckless_. "_Tidal Whip_, the MC80. Two refitted Nebulon-B escort frigates; they've been converted into assault frigates. The _Dervish,_ a _Slayer_-class assault frigate. The _Perilous_, a Victory-class Star Destroyer. Three Corellian Gunships, and _Star Breeze_, a _Ranger_-class Gunship. Everything else are transports loaded with wounded. There are eight fighter squadrons cobbled together from the survivors of Coruscant." He winced as he said the name of capitol. "Also, there is another Victory-class destroyer with a Remnant transponder. They are inbound with full fighter support. ETA, thirty minutes."

"Damn lucky for us that they're showing up. Put me in touch with the captain."

A hologram flickered on and a woman in a well-kept captain's uniform nodded to him, Farman threw the woman an Imperial salute. "This is Commander Keith Farman of the New Republic ship _Reckless _to whom am I speaking?"

"This is Captain Leav Shevun of the Star Destroyer _Vong's Demise. _Nice to see a friendly face, we just jumped from Coruscant and got a hold of your beacon. I'm guessing we're not to late to join the party. My scanners are picking up a whole mess of Vong behind us."

Farman grinned. "As are mine captain. But if you don't mind me asking, I didn't think the Moff council was letting you play with the scarheads."

The smile that Shevun returned would have shamed a wolf. "They aren't, we went rouge. But this is a conversation for another time. What are our orders commander?"

"We will be jumping in just over an hour. RV coordinates will be sent in a moment."

She saluted and the holo disappeared. Farman handed the note he had still been holding to the officer at the communications station. "Add a Crackens twist to these and send them out. Also, I want an X-wing to meet up with the Imperials, tell the pilot to explain the twist." He turned back to Delcove, "Captain, what is the update on the salvage operation?"

The enthusiasm in Delcove's voice was hard to miss as he answered. "Great sir, our hold is completely full of replacement parts, armor plating, turbo laser barrels, targeting computers and the like, we left a lot of stuff behind when we ran. We have also recovered six of those starfighter training probes. All in all, we should be able to repair The Reckless and a few other ships besides."

"Good, and the other ships?"

"They report similar success."

Farman smiled grimly. "Good, once we have come out of hyperspace and got our barring I want every one from fighter wing commander on up, to report to the _Tidal Whip_'s briefing room. We need to talk strategy."

Six hours later the Reckless came out of hyperspace in a secluded part of space. Farman looked out the view port eyes straining to see something. He turned to the sensor officer. "Give me a full scan of the area. I want to be informed of anything that you find." The Twi-lek officer at the station nodded as he keyed in the proper scan, and few seconds later the results came up. Farman looked at Delcove. "Captain assemble every tech team we've got. I want those checked out before Oh-twelve hundred." Delcove saluted and pulled out his comlink, Farman returned his eyes to the group of lights that marked an Imperial outdated ship storage facility, or as it was also know, a mothball.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

It was forty minutes later when Farman's shuttle docked in the hanger bay of the _Tidal Whip. _He and captain Delcove stepped out to be greeted by Captain Admar, the Mon Cal in command of the ship. Many people found the fish headed Mon Calamari slightly odd, disconcerting at least, Farman had always found them reassuring, first an example of why he had joined the Rebel Alliance, and after that as a symbol of continued peace between non humans and humans.

He shook hands with the captain and let himself be led to the briefing room. When he entered, the twenty or so officers already in the room greeted him. He acknowledged them with a slight nod and headed to the center of the room.

Once every one had arrived he raised his hands for silence and the several side conversations died.

"Gentle Beings," he said. "We have just take a major loss, Coruscant has been captured and our fleets have been scattered. In light of this I'm declaring this an open floor. If you have a question ask it, if you an idea voice it. We need some way to survive and we need it soon so lets get going." A Bothan in a captain's uniform raised his hand. Farman nodded to him and he asked his question. "Sir, why are we stopping here? Should we not get further away?"

Farman heard the murmuring of assent from many of the junior officers. "I'll tell you why we are hear, but first let me ask a question. What is the main thing we need right now?"

A woman in the back stood up. "As I see it sir, we need time to make repairs and to heal."

Farman nodded. "Right, now does any one know where we are?"

"We are at a Mothball facility for Clone wars era equipment. One that obviously has not been found by pirates or the like." A distinctly female voice stated from the door. Farman looked to the door, and saw a woman leaning against the frame. She was wearing her black hair short and her grey captain's uniform was immaculately clean and strait. She was an oddity, gray among the tans, whites and orange of the Republic officers. He looked back the rest of the room. "Captain Shevun is correct. This is indeed a mothball facility."

The same Bothan as before again raised his hand. "Sir, why are we here, none of the material stored here will still work."

Captain Delcove turned around in the front row. "Actually, that not true. When we arrived in system commander Farman ordered tech crews to survey each ship. I just got the initial reports. Three of the twelve ships so far surveyed are in perfect working order, and six can be made to work with only basic repairs, the rest need extensive overhauls." He turned to Farman. "Classifications are being sent to you now, sir."

Farman plugged his data pad into the display in the center of the room. And the fuzzy image of nine ships materialized. He highlighted three of them, then looked back at the room. "Who recognizes these ships?"

Six or seven hands went up but again it was Captain Shevun who answered. "That's a pair of _Venator_-class Star Destroyers and a Trade Federation battle ship. Is the battle ship still equipped with its droid complement?"

Farman smiled inwardly; this imperial sure knew her history, "Top marks again to Captain Shevun. The battle ship is operating at about one third droid complement, mostly pilot droids. These," he highlighted the other six ships. "Are?"

This time it was a younger Mon Cal, who answered. "One is a _Providence_-class heavy destroyer, four are _Acclamator _class figates, and last is another _Venator_-class Star Destoryer."

This time Farman could not contain the smile. "That's correct, along with the ships found here we have found around three hundred droid starfighters."

There was a murmuring of excitement at this. Captain Delcove held up his hands for silence, and Farman nodded his thanks to him. "This my plan. First, all ships that will take less then a week to be repaired by their own crew will do so. All other ships, except the _Tidal Whip_, The _Dervish_, and the _Perilous_, are being classified as secondary importance. Primary on the repair list are the mothballs, those that can be repaired quickly. Those that will take over a month are to be used as scrap. We need every ship we can get up and running and the clone wars stuff is tougher then most of what we got. All ships smaller then Frigate class will be stripped of turbo lasers, these cannons will be placed on the clone wars stuff, either as replacements or as extra weapons. Laser cannons will replace the weapons taken off; I want the capital ships to be able to do as much damage as possible.

Starfighter commanders, start checking your people out on whatever class of fighters are still working, they will be replacing any destroyed fighter. I'll send you an update on that later."

A Gotal officer in the front row raised his hand. "Sir, what about our wounded, we don't have the room for them on our ships and we're going to need their help if this plan is to work."

"I agree, that's why we are shifting Head Quarters to the old archives station in the middle of the fleet, it has some defenses and a fully equipped Med-center. When not on the station the flag will be aboard the _Whip. _Any more questions?"

When no one voiced any, Farman hit a button on the Holo projector, and the image dissolved into nothingness. "I would like Captains, Shevun, Delcove, Admar, Gerndal, and Felvon to stay, the rest of you are dismissed. Individual orders will be transmitted soon, until they are received act upon the orders I issued just now."

Every one he had not named got up and, with a salute and a bit of grumbling filed out of the room, leaving only the six people he had requested. Captain Admar asked the question on every ones minds. "Sir why are we still here?"

Farman eyed each one of them. "You are here because the plan I just outlined is long term. It will take at least two weeks to get every thing running at a hundred percent again. The repair facilities here are minimal. We need a short-term strategy. I'm open to ideas."

"That Federation battle ship, with a third of its droid complement it can still fly right?" Captain Shevun asked.

"Yes, it has more then enough droids to operate it at full potency."

"Then I have an idea. I have heard that those ships could fire in any direction. We can use its as a mine for the Vong to hit."

Farman looked at her curiously, he opened his mouth, but captain Gerndal beat him to the punch. "Care to explain that?"

Captain Shevun smiled that wolfs smile again. "We have a secret weapon on the _Demise,_ One of Grand Admiral Thrawn's cloaking generators."

This statement was met with a stunned silence. Finally captain Admar shifted his eyes in a Calamari gesture of disbelief. 'That is not possible, intelligence located all of them."

Shevun looked at him with what appeared to be a measure of pity. "do you really think that the program died with Thrawn? We were still experimenting with it long past the truce between our governing bodies. The _Demise_ is the prototype for a new line of battle ships, all with cloaking abilities."

Farman stopped any response from the captains. "We are getting off topic. Captain Shevun, if you would please send me specifications for your ship I would like to look over them. But back the discussion, what is your plan with the federation battle ship?"

"We can transfer the generator over to the battleship. There is only one hyperspace route to this location so, if we put it there, and leave it cloaked, then when the Vong show up, then they fly right past it. Once it is in their center, it will open up. Then we launch what ever ships we have that are combat worthy."

Farman looked at the other captains, who were nodding thoughtfully. "I like it, we have a few of the YVH droids, we can use their friend or foe programs to update the droidfighters. Also, the star fighter training probes, how many do we have." He paused as they answered. "twenty total, aye? Ok, when we were fighting at Fondor, I noticed that several training probes were hit by stray laser fire."

A new voice opened up from off to the left. "And they opened up on everything moving within range. Yes I noticed that as well."

Every one turned to find who had spoken. A young man in a orange flight suit was sitting in one of the top level benches. "who are you, I don't believe you are one of the captains that I named." Farman demanded. The man stood up and headed down to the center where all of the Captains had gathered.

"I am Janson Hammond." He introduced himself. "I was elected to be the spokes person for the Jedi in the fleet."

"Jedi!" Captain Felvon, a bothan, blurted. "You were not invited to this meeting."

Farman shook his head. "No, you were not, yet I am glad you are here, the council of the Jedi is always welcome."

Hammond inclined his head. "If you would allow me, I believe I know where you were going with the training probes."

Farman nodded his accent, and he continued. "You would use the probes to confuse and weaken the Dovin Basals of the vong ships. Is that correct?"

Farman nodded again. "Yes, that was my idea, they can be combined with the droid fighters to do as much damage as possible and slow the enemy forces down while the main fleet moves up. The only problem with this plan is that, due to the sensor blind dual nature of the cloaking shields, we would have no way of telling the droids in the ship when to attack."

"I believe I can be of some assistance there." Hammond offered. "We Jedi have the ability to communicate with each other over long distances. One of us can stay aboard the battle ship, until the order to go is given."

Farman looked at him. "that ship is almost guaranteed to be destroyed, who ever stayed on her would have a very slim chance of getting away safely."

Hammond didn't blink. "I understand the risk involved with this, but I will take this mission."

The planning session ended about an hour later. As Farman sat on his shuttle back to the _Reckless_, he felt content that, given a day, they would be able to defend them self's from at least a small attack.


End file.
